Eric didn’t look up from his work, spoke without turning. “Did they see you? Ready,” he said in the same breath to the next five transposées.

“No. We’ve been waiting for someone to show up for over an hour. From outside you have no line of sight into the work area, and we’ve been careful to keep the lights out. Not that they’re needed now.” That much was true. The city had swung around the eclipsing mass of the Earth and now rode in sunlit orbit.

As far as the rest of the city was concerned, GATE Station was still empty and secured. It drew on its own solar power supply for energy, monitored its own activity, and no one had noticed the shift in the position of the huge dish every ten minutes.

The peace lasted another couple of hours, until the growing knot of concerned GATE technicians finally called upon a security repair crew, operating under the logical assumption that something had gone wrong with the airlock mechanism.

The technicians and scientists retreated up the corridor to the next checkpoint. Since Eric’s people had turned off the airlock instruments, there was no way of determining the atmospheric pressure on the inside, and the repair crew wore full spacesuits. Eric wanted them functioning under just such a misconception. It would slow them down.

Several more hours passed before the repair crew requested and received permission to cut the lock seals. Lasers were in the process of being unloaded when the airlock suddenly slid aside and the armed colonists yanked the clumsily clad repair crew inside, together with their equipment.

As the lock was quickly resealed, Jeeter was able to report to Eric. “We’ve got ’em.”

“That should make them think long and hard before trying again,” Eric replied, concentrating fully on his work, "but next time they’ll bring weapons along. I think it’s time we made contact with Station authorities.”

It wasn’t necessary. Before he could compose a suitable greeting, the communications speakers throughout the Station roared to life.

“This is Commander Karl Rasmusson, of City Security! You are in illegal possession of WOSA property, whoever you are. Identify yourselves!”

Jeeter moved to a pickup, replied in that relaxed, dis-arming manner women in particular found reassuring.

“Sure. My name’s Jeeter Sa-Nos-Tee. I’m a third-generation colonist over from Eden. We decided to pay the old hogan a visit. So please say hello for me to everybody down in New Mexico, and greetings from my grandparents Yaz and Sula Sa-Nos-Tee.”

Eric would have enjoyed seeing the faces at Security Central, but even if he’d been given the opportunity, he couldn’t have spared the time to look away from the GATE master’s console.

Steady were the readouts, unvarying the numbers. “Step through,” he told a family of three and a bright-eyed elderly couple, and they disappeared in the dark wake of their predecessors.

When Rasmusson spoke again, his manner was decidedly less belligerent. “Whoever you are, you’re lying about where you’ve come from.”

“Not lying,” Jeeter assured him.

“GATE Terminus operates only in one direction: outward.”

“Now, that’s what I call a lie.” Jeeter was enjoying his role as spokesman immensely. “That’s what we were told, and I’m sure it’s what you believe, and everyone on Earth’s been told the same lie, because it’s what WOSA wants them to believe. But we’re not lying. Contact some higher-ups at WOSA and ask them. You’ll find out.”

That was the last they heard from anyone for a long time. Jeeter had let the secret out, and once the accusation was confirmed, everyone who’d overheard would have to be sworn to silence and checked for security clearance. That ought to occupy Rasmusson’s forces for a while. It did.

Much time had passed, and the first tech crew had been relieved by a fresh corp of replacements when the speakers crackled again. Only Eric refused to relinquish his post. He continued to recite “Ready” and “Step through” in steady, monotonous tones and intended to continue doing so until the last colonist from Eden had been successfully transposed.

“This is Dr. Dhurapati Ponnani,” the new voice announced. A murmur rose from those recently transposed colonists who had recognized the name. “I am a direct representative from Colligatarch Authority, recently arrived at the city.

“I call on you to prove your identities. We also demand to know what you are doing with the GATE. External sensors have detected fluctuations in the power supply as well as movement of the projection unit.

“You claim to have discovered a way of utilizing the GATE for two-way transportation. We neither confirm nor deny that this is possible.”

A demand, an accusation, and a compliment, Eric mused. Their new arrival did not mince words. “Ready,” he said firmly.

“What we’re doing with the GATE is none of your business,” Jeeter replied politely. “Say that we’re toying with it. If you’d been lied to for a century and a half, you’d feel justified in some relaxation, wouldn’t you?”

A pause, and the indecipherable sounds of whispered conversation. The next question surprised everyone.

“Is there a man called Eric Abbott with you?”

“Eric who?” said Jeeter dumbly, but their new adversary would have none of it.

“I think there probably te,” Ponnani insisted. “He’s the only one who’s been through the GATE who’d know how to reprogram and redesign the circuitry to allow two-way use, not to mention being the only one with a reason to do so.

Jeeter shrugged, moved to finally spell his friend at the main console. Eric rubbed his eyes as he addressed the pickup.

“I’m here, Dr. Ponnani.”

“I thought as much. Doesn't it occur to you that what you’re doing, by making use of the GATE for your own reasons, is not only illegal but highly dangerous? I don’t mean to you and your friends, but to the people of Earth?”

“Why should I care about the people of Earth?” he replied coolly. “I'm not of Earth. Your associates went out of their way to prove that to me, and they succeeded in convincing me when I didn’t want to be convinced. You disowned me.”

“You were never ours to disown, Eric Abbott. And you are dangerous, I tell you!”

“I promise you, Dr. Ponnani, that what we’re doing here in no way threatens the interests of the people of Earth. My friends from Eden bear a considerable grudge against a certain elite segment of the population, but I assure you they would not participate in anything so apocalyptic as you envision. For that matter, I’m not doing anything that in any way threatens my creators, the Syrax. There is no danger to anyone in what we do here.”

“Now look here, you!” He recognized the voice of Security Commander Rasmusson. There was a feeling of Dr. Ponnani’s being shoved aside, physically as well as figuratively. “I’ve been briefed on you, Abbott. If you force me to, I can order the destruction of GATE Station itself, if it’s thought vital to the security of the human race.”

“I don’t doubt that you can,” Eric responded calmly, “but first you have to determine that that’s necessary. I don’t think you’d risk blowing up the GATE on your own authority, now, would you? That’s quite a step.”

More veiled whispering from the speakers. “I can obtain the requisite authorization fast enough, you’ll see."

“Will I? That would be interesting. In your request you should note that we haven’t harmed a soul … the repair crew that decided to become our temporary guests can vouch for that … nor have we damaged so much as a paper clip. We know precisely what we’re doing (a half lie, at least) and we’ll be finished before too long.”

“You’re Syrax!” Rasmusson screamed accusingly.

“I am not Syrax,” Eric replied evenly. “I’m human. I proved that when I fled from them as precipitously as I did from your Major Orema. If anything, my identity is in doubt, not my origin. As for my allegiance, that is reserved for my friends, regardless of shape.

“So I strongly urge you to discuss the situation carefully with your superiors, Commander, before embarking on any drastic course of action. There are thousands of lives and trillions of world dollars at stake here in GATE Station. They shouldn’t be obliterated in a moment of thoughtless anger and frustration.”

There was a lengthy delay. When the commander spoke again, it was in a subdued, almost conciliatory voice.

“I will consult, but you could hasten the inevitable by opening the seals on lock number five and letting us in. I will discuss the possibility of general amnesty in return for your cooperation. My first concern is for the general welfare, my second for the GATE. You could damage the Station severely in your ignorance.”

“We know what we’re doing,” Eric assured him. Behind him he heard a cheerful Jeeter say, “Step through.” Each “Step through” was a victory, each “Ready” a triumph.

“I hope so, creature of the Syrax, for the sake of those people you’ve already duped.”

Jeeter looked up at Eric and grinned. So did many other members of the tech crew. Eric smiled back briefly, then hid his face while Lisa helped shield him.

Bold leaders are not supposed to cry.

The tension in the conference room was thicker than Oristano could ever remember. The last time they’d been called together thus it had been to discuss a danger only half-real. There was no doubt about the viability of the one they were facing now, however.

When the thing called Eric Abbott had turned on its makers and fled through the GATE, the Colligatarch had called an end to the emergency. It had gambled that the Syrax had made their creature too well, too human, and the gamble had paid off. With the transposition of Eric Abbott to distant Eden, the threat posed by the Syrax had self-destructed.